Joan sensed the approaching presence before she saw any hint of their physical body, their heavenly light shining upon the spiritual level like a small sun.
She had been sitting in the backyard of the farmstead, a spot where her spiritual senses could encompass the whole building and some of the area around it. It was a considerable area for a mortal mage to be able to monitor, but for one touched by Heaven Joan felt that her performance in surveying this was rather lacklustre and short of the mark. Enhancing her senses had never been a priority during her celestial training; what she had was simply been a natural side effect of her spiritual growth and empowerment.
Still, even with this limited ability, she was able to sense the distant signature of power began to draw near. The distant being was making no effort to hide, and Joan became aware of their presence when they were still miles away.
She felt a power that was fierce, crackling with barely restrained potency, and her hand had tightened about her sword hilt, the tension growing in her gut as she prepared to defend her charge. It had only been when the powerful signature had drawn closer that the saint had been able to relax somewhat.
This was unquestionably one of God’s angels, one of the Heavenly soldiers that had acted as teachers to her while she had been in the afterlife. Joan felt a surge of relief flow through her as she felt the presence drawing nearer. It was good that she would no longer have to hold this vigil alone. An ally here would ensure that there would be another to take up her task should she fail in its duty.
Rising from the old deckchair and standing to attention she allowed the point of her sword to sink into the ground as she rested her hands upon it in a ready position. Whoever her new ally might be she had no desire for them to find her seemingly lazing about. That would hardly make a good first impression upon one of His angels.
When the angel arrived, she did so with shocking speed. Joan knew that in her angelic form, she was supernaturally swift, but it was one thing to know it, and quite another to see it before your mortal eyes. One instant she had been searching the skies for any sign of the Heavenly Messenger, the next she had passed through the Hallowed Sanctuary and was right there in front of her. The angel hovered a couple of feet off the ground and gazed down at the resurrected soul before her.
“Lady Joan, I am Hadriel. It has been my honour to be assigned to protect the mortals of this plane and to be tasked with aiding you and your charge.”
Immediately the French saint lowered herself to one knee, both her hands remaining clasped upon the hilt of her sword.
“Honoured Hadriel, I am blessed by your presence!”
In response, the angel nodded and gestured for her to rise.
As she got to her feet Joan took in the features of the celestial being before her. As expected of an angel, she was flawless. Her body was something akin to a work of art. It was as though the finest creation of the greatest sculptor in the world had suddenly taken a breath and become flesh and blood. This angel was a thing of beauty, one that would overshadow any mortal. She was tall, slender, and beautifully proportioned. Her hair was a rich and lustrous copper, as though made from spun metal, and cascaded down her shoulders to reach almost to her hips. Her eyes shone a brilliant aquamarine, bright enough to eclipse any gemstone. This was the sort of loveliness that could rob those that witnessed it of their senses if they were not careful.
From her back extended a large pair of wings, though their size made them more ornamental than practical. Their thick plumage was a rich blood red that surprised the reborn saint. She knew that, though most angels retained the colour of untouched snow for their wings, it was not unknown for some members of the heavenly army to find their wings taking on new tints due to their experiences. Red was rare, but not so much it was unheard of and was considered the mark of a well-blooded warrior.
Her halo was also unusual. Rather than being a ring of light or energy that hovered above her head, it was an ornate metal circle more than a foot in diameter that hovered behind her and framed her head. It was wrought from gold and was inlaid with a design of small angelic wings in a pleasing symmetrical fashion. The metal matched a small, jewelled headpiece that adorned the angel’s brow and held a jewel the same colour as her eyes, serving only to compliment it and her. The halo seemed to radiate a subtle but sharp aura of power.
In each of her hands, she held what could loosely be called a sword. They were like the weapons of mortals in the most basic ways, namely that they had a blade, a hilt and a pommel. When a mortal artisan created a weapon, they had to consider a multitude of factors such as weight, balance, points of weakness, the practicality of ornamentation, and the most appropriate metals to use. The weapons of Heaven did not share these concerns since the process by which they were created was so different. Yes, they were forged in fire, and hammered by a smith, but these actions were more symbolic than they were practical. In Heaven substance was interchangeable with energy, and the forging of a weapon was more about the creation of a concept than it was about the material shaping of an item. When the concept was forged then the form would follow, created from the elemental essence that permeated the higher planes of existence.
For a normal mortal, the weapons Hadriel held would have been utterly impractical. They would have been too heavy to wield with skill, too unbalanced to rely upon in combat. The weapons were easily four feet in length, the metal thick and heavy enough that each alone would require a large and strong wielder to use them with both hands. The blades were curved, the back of the blade blunt and inset with rings that jingled like small bells as it moved, the edge as keen as any that could be imagined. The hilt was a heavy black grip with a golden guard that came over it in a manner somewhat similar to some sabre designs that mortals had used. This guard was equipped with several extended spikes that Joan had no doubt could be used to entrap an enemy’s sword or rend their flesh apart. Each sword practically sang of death, being weapons that had been used often, both to spill blood from enemies and to protect others from harm.
All in all, the heavenly soldier before was a figure of power and beauty that Joan would be happy to have as an ally.
So why was she dressed like a harlot?
Truthfully, she supposed that such a thought was uncharitable. In modern society, many women wore similar coverage regularly, when they went to enjoy good weather on the seaside, or simply when they chose to exercise. During the short time that Joan had spent in this new era, she had found herself somewhat scandalized by some of the clothing that women and girls freely chose to wear. In her time there had been camp followers, prostitutes and wanton women, that had worn more modest apparel whilst trying to entice the custom of the soldiers serving in her army.
What Hadriel wore was essentially a long loincloth and two strips of cloth covering her breasts. Aside from the jewellery that she wore that was the entirety of her clothing. Both the loincloth and the strips were made from a greyish-green material that shared qualities with both cloth and leather, the straps and cords of the brief clothing being made of the same material. The top was tied to a jewelled necklace/collar that the angel wore, a piece of adornment that had a vaguely Egyptian look to it. Hadriel also wore bracelets and anklets of a similar design, each adorned with small gems similar to the aquamarine jewel upon her forehead.
And aside from those she was clad in nothing else, she did not even wear sandals. It was a strange sight, though one that she knew would have thrilled almost all men, and also many women, who saw it. After all, what sort of warrior went into battle in garb more suited to the fantasy of a pleasure slave? The very notion was absurd!
However, while Joan could not entirely approve of such a choice of apparel, she did know the angel was so clad, and the answer was in those swords.
The armies of the High Heavens were vast in number, enough to blanket the world in their wings That meant that even though they were backed by all the riches and power of the celestial realms the number of resources available for each individual was limited. As an angel climbed the ranks the resources available for them grew. Resources with many uses, such as weapons, armour, augmentation to their halos, higher-level magic foci, or even servitor constructs.
Hadriel was obviously stronger than the normal rank and file of the lesser angels, but her wings showed she was not of the higher choirs. She would only have been granted a limited amount of material from the forges of heaven for her use, and it would seem that almost all had been used on her swords. Between the material in each great blade, she could have formed a decent suit of armour, but instead, she had focused almost entirely on her offensive capacity. A small portion was used to make the jewellery that was her magical foci and to enhance her halo, but all else had gone into her swords.
It was the lack of additional resources to create defences that was most likely the reason for her current state of dress, or lack thereof, Joan guessed.
Since her skin was already tough as iron and her body could endure scorching deserts or icy tundras with ease any armour or clothing of a more mundane nature served no practical purpose for her. Additionally, as an angel she was a naturally beautiful being, and one that felt little in the way of shame, unlike mortals. The simple and brief garments she wore were enough for her.
Dismissing such thoughts from her mind Joan stood up, sheathing her sword as she did so.
“You have done well in finding and protecting your charge. Our Father is pleased by your efforts in taking him from his former dwelling and bringing him to his haven that you had prepared.”
The resurrected soul felt her heart swell with pride at such words.
“However . . .” and a single word was all that it took to bring her heart crashing down. “It would seem that you were unable to adequately defend him during the time of his Awakening. The Lord has sent me here to aid in the completion of his transformation, and to aid you in the continued protection that he shall require in the times to come.”
There was no malice in her words, no condescension, no contempt, but even so, Joan could not help but feel that she was being talked down to. She felt a spike of indignation starting to rise in her heart, but she ruthlessly slapped it down. It was true, she might not like it, but she had been unable to completely carry out the duty placed upon her. Yes, she had protected Adam and kept him from being taken by the demon hosts, but she had failed to keep them from disrupting the ritual. Perhaps if she had used her angelic form sooner, rather than holding it in reserve, perhaps if she had stayed closer to Adam and the altar instead of letting herself be drawn away. There was no real way to tell. Hindsight was a cruel mistress.
Still, she could not let herself be disheartened, she had survived, and so had her charge, and Hadriel was now here to correct the consequences of her failure. It was far from ideal, but it was better than a complete loss. She could learn from this, learn to do better in the future. Nodding her head in resolution she looked back up at the angel.
“I shall strive to do better!”
Hadriel nodded in return before her gaze turned towards the farmhouse.
“So, he is within?”
“Yes. He sleeps in some sort of chrysalis.”
At Joan’s response, the angel’s eyebrows rose in visible surprise.
“Show me.”
The reborn saint immediately led the crimson-winged woman to the spot where her charge’s cocooned form rested. Again, the angel did not attempt to hide her surprise when she saw the large lump of hardened flesh, it's colouring the shade of dried blood. In truth Joan could sympathize, the chrysalis was quite the sight, especially since it seemed to have grown in size since she’d first placed it there. When first laid down it had been about the size of a sleeping bag with someone in it. Now it had more than doubled in mass, but was still keeping the same general shape.
Frowning Hadriel slowly walked around the large cocoon, trying to view it from all angles. Her swords were gone, stored in her bracelets to leave her hands free. After she completed her circuit, she reached out with one hand and gently rapped her knuckles against the hard surface of the chrysalis. The sound that came back was as though she’d knocked on the side of a large melon, though the note was lower. Shaking her head, she stepped back until she stood beside Joan once more.
“Strange, very strange. I have some idea of what has happened, but I have never seen it occur like this.”
“Truly?”
“Indeed,” She assured the reborn soul, not taking her eyes off the cocoon. “Other mortals of mixed blood have gone into similar states during the Awakening of their power. It is normally done as a means to allow their bodies to alter themselves to adapt to the new powers or properties they might develop.”
“I see, such as elementals or some of the fey.” Joan nodded as she indicated the chrysalis. “But when that happens, they take on the aspect of the element that they are becoming, I believe.”
“Indeed, that is correct,” The words were kind, but they were spoken in the tone of a teacher praising a student that was not normally very bright. Once again, the French saint ignored the twinge of irritation within her and simply continued to listen. “However, in the case of your charge, his body has entered this state to preserve itself rather than transform further.”
“What do you mean?”
“The ritual that was interrupted provided his body with all the resources it needed in order to fuel a swift transformation, but with the inclusion of traces of demonic power the process has become tainted. In addition, the various energies that he did take in were never harmonized by the last portions of the ritual. As a result, the forces within him are not cooperating, but are instead all but at war with each other. The cocoon is a means of preservation. In this state, he can survive such potent energies running wild within him. Left alone he will eventually be able to tame the forces inside him, bringing them into the correct configuration to let him ascend, but it will take a great deal of time.”
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“How long?”
“Decades at least, possibly centuries at worst.”
‘Decades’? ‘Centuries’? Joan was aghast! Had she truly failed so catastrophically?!
“Fortunately, it is relatively easy to correct.”
Those words were like the sun emerging from behind a dark cloud, the knowledge that she had not completely failed a balm to her soul.
“The resources are all there, all they require is a catalyst to help them fall into place. Once the demonic taint has been dealt with there will no longer be any impediment to the process of his ascension. Indeed, all he requires is an infusion of additional heavenly energies in order to begin the transformation.”
The reborn soul blinked at that. Was that really all that was needed? Such would have been within her capabilities when she was in her Angelic form. Granted, she might not be on par with any of the greater angels, but she guessed herself to be on a level comparable to the angel before her. Had she been aware of the need for such an infusion then she was certain she could have performed the task herself!
Or . . . was that her pride leading her astray?
She had not been aware. Indeed, she would not have been able to discern what it was that she was sensing from within the cocoon. True, her supernatural senses had been able to discern the chaotic energies seething within, but she’d had no way to interpret them, she might as well have been trying to read a foreign language.
“How soon can you apply the energies that Adam requires?”
The angel turned to look at her, her eyes measuring, though just what they were measuring the resurrected saint was unsure.
“It would be best to wait for the same hour as when you conducted the ritual to Awaken him. The closer he is to the original conditions the simpler a matter it will be for him to absorb ambient energies to fuel his change.”
“Would he need such power?”
“Need? No, the strength gathered by your ritual was sufficient when combined with the strength that slept within him. Every bit will help though, will grant him additional strength from the beginning, rather than needing him to build it up himself.”
Joan nodded, reassured by what was said.
“Then we shall wait. Can I offer you some tea or refreshments?”
The question was more of an automatic reflex. Hadriel had just arrived from a journey, therefore it was only polite for her to offer some sort of food or drink, if only to let her refresh herself. However, in response, the angel turned a look upon her as though she had just offered to allow her to bathe in raw sewage.
“I . . . shall not be partaking of the sin of gluttony,” the angel said, her tone every bit as proud as a queen declining the food of the ignorant barbarians that thought the disgusting parts of an animal were the best. “I do not need the food and drink of mortals, I shall continue without.”
Ah, the French maiden wanted to hit herself over the head for such a foolish mistake! Hadriel was an angel of Heaven, of course, she would feel none of the needs of hunger or thirst. Indulging in the pleasures of drink and food was one of the paths that had led the first Fallen to lose their Grace, so naturally she would seek to avoid a path that might lead to such corruption.
“My apologies honoured Hadriel. No offence was intended.”
Though her expression was still slightly disgruntled the angel nodded to her.
“I understand, it was a simple mistake due to you not having interacted with angels upon this plane. Still, be sure not to forget this lesson, other angels would take far greater offence at such an offer than myself, and some of them lack restraint.”
“Of course.”
Not mortal, not human, Joan reminded herself of the twin facts as she looked up at the winged beauty who was still hovering more than a foot off the ground. Angels and demons might take on human-like appearances when they appear on the mortal plane, but it must always be remembered that even though they looked similar they were fundamentally different. It wasn’t a vast difference, angels and mortals were similar in more ways than they were different, but those few differences were far more significant.
Angels knew, knew all the way down to their core, why they existed, what was meant for them, and what they were supposed to do. That certainty, that metal hard conviction at their centre was so different from the uncertainties of mortals, who stumbled through life trying to find meaning and purpose to their existence. Mortals had free will, while angels possessed a more limited agency.
Joan would have to be more careful in the future. Angels were warriors of light, defenders of the throne of the Highest, soldiers in the defence of all that was good from the forces of malice and bedlam that sought to drown the universe in chaos and blood. None of that meant that they had to be ‘nice’.
Joan hadn’t had contact with the upper echelons of the angelic hosts while she had been in Heaven, not aside from brief glimpses during the times she had been granted a fleeting audience with the Lord. Her instruction had been handled by angels such as Hadriel, soldiers in the army of the Heavens, powerful angels, but still mainly of the celestial rank and file. The archangels and the seraphim, she had only seen brief glimpses of them, but doing so had been like staring into the heart of a sun.
No, she was happy to simply be dealing with a fellow soldier like the angel before her. She, at least, was something that the resurrected soul could understand.
“Show me the site of the attack that interrupted the ritual.” The angel ordered, gesturing for Joan to show her. “I would know more of the forces that interfered in the boy’s awakening.”
Boy? Even as the Maid of Orleans, led the angel to the site of the battle she could not help but frown slightly at her choice of words. Adam was no warrior, he was inexperienced and somewhat unworldly, but to call him a boy was underserved. A boy would not have been able to endure the punishing training that she had forced upon him there last few days. A boy would not have been able to resist the demon host attempting to kidnap him during the ritual. To call him such was . . . dismissive of what he had done.
Still, she didn’t voice her words. Instead, she wordlessly led the angel to the burnt and blasted remains of the ritual site.
Seeing it in the light of the sun brought back to her how intense the end of the short battle had been. Here and there she could see the gouges in the ground where her own blast of light had torn into it, but by and large, the aftermath of her efforts was eclipsed by the massive burnt crater that took up the site where she had tried to awaken Adam. Of the large trunks and makeshift altar that she had used very little was left. What tree trunks had not been cast aside like sticks before a gale had instead been reduced to ash and charcoal. The ground itself was seared black stones melted and sand fused into glass. The ruined remnants of the golem stood as a mute testimony to the forces that had been unleashed, a construct able to match her while she wielded the form of an angel, reduced to a melted husk.
She had not had much of an opportunity to evaluate the remains of her enemy, her focus having been upon protecting Adam, but now she took the time to look at it. The golem still stood; its end having come while it was posed as though pushing against an invisible wind. The stance was a stable one, one that combined with the construct's great size to let it keep its balance, even after it ceased to be animated.
A movement to the side drew her attention away from the melted hulk, and she turned to see Hadriel drawing the point of one of her swords through the ash that covered the ground.
“The foes that you fought here, they were demonic, were they not?”
“Indeed,” Joan confirmed. “Demon hosts of some nature, though their bodies did not have the feeling of mortality to them. When we battled, I was able to extinguish the demonic forces within them easily enough, but the bodies left behind had no remnants of souls within them. After the death of the demonic energy, they were simply empty vessels.”
Despite still hovering in the air Hadriel knelt upon nothing to reach down and draw her fingers through the ash and dirt beneath her. Joan watched in surprise as the angel sniffed the mixture of soil and ash that clung to her fingertips, then even ran them across her tongue to taste them. The next moment her beautiful face contorted in disgust and she spat to the side, followed by a brief flash of light from her fingers as the dirt was scoured away.
“False life, the taint lingers even after their destruction,” she declared. “The foes you faced, they were not some foolish mortals that sold their souls and were consumed from within. They were the result of mortals attempting to emulate the Father’s work through the use of their crude magicks. Providing such a vessel, a soulless one, would mean they would not need to fight for control of it with the original owner. Nor would they need to waste their strength expelling such a soul. They would be able to devote their full strength to their task immediately.”
She paused again, this time tilting her head to the side and inhaling deeply.
“But . . . how many of these foes did you cut down?”
The resurrected soul tried to think back. In all honesty, she wasn’t too sure. The battle had been hectic, a wild chaos of her trying to strike as many down as she could while protecting Adam, and them trying to swarm past her while others of their number kept her engaged. Then she had called upon the power of her angelic form and faced the golem. More of the demon hosts had been incinerated in the periphery of the battle than they had in direct combat with her, and even Adam had managed to kill at least one of his attackers. Still, she had a rough guess.
“There were several dozen, but I do not believe there could have been more than two hundred. At a rough guess I would say I cut down more than a hundred, the rest were consumed in the explosion that claimed the golem.”
“You are certain, there were at least that many?”
Uncertain of why the angel would be so insistent on that fact Joan simply nodded. She was certain of her answer, of that there was no doubt.
“I see,” the words were spoken more to herself than to Joan, but they were clear enough to hear. “Then that must mean . . .”
“Is there something of importance, honoured Hadriel?”
She wasn’t sure if it was her place to ask such questions, but her curiosity got the better of her. Besides, anything that she could learn about the foes she had faced might aid her in the future, so such queries were within the scope of her duty. For her part, the angel frowned at her ever so slightly but then answered.
“There is demonic residue in the air, as would be expected in the aftermath of such a battle. However, the residue here isn’t as concentrated as it should be, not for the number of demons you spoke of.”
The resurrected soul’s face blanched as she heard that.
“Honoured Hadriel, I would not lie on this matter! The number of foes I faced is as I said!”
“There is no doubt of your honesty,” the heavenly soldier assured her, one hand waving off her concerns. “But it is strange, the demonic power that remains does not feel . . . malicious enough.”
She paused, and Joan’s confusion must have been clear on her face. Demonic power that didn’t feel malicious? Wasn’t that a contradiction of terms? Demons were beings either born or tainted by the powers of Hell, beings to whom cruelty and malice were as much a part of them as the blood in their veins.
“It is unquestionably the power of Hell,” Hadriel continued, “But there is no intent behind it, no drive, no cruelty. It is as evil as natural fire would be, something dangerous but not malicious.”
“But . . . but they were hostile, my lady! They sought to kill me and abduct Adam, and when that grew too difficult, they followed the orders to try to slay him!”
Joan wasn’t entirely sure why she was protesting, but she felt a certain need to defend the first battle that she had undertaken on the mortal plane since her resurrection.
“They were weapons, not enemies,” Hadriel spoke the words with certainty, waving her hand at the ruined site before them. “Some mortal created their bodies and then used demonic energy to animate the empty husks. The energy within them served as a false soul and mind allowing them to live and act, but it had no intelligence of its own. The creatures you fought were constructs of mortal magic.”
So, that would imply that the mortal that commanded the attack upon her ritual was . . . what? Powerful enough to create artificial bodies but not strong enough to bind true demons to their will? Joan had no idea as to what that might imply since her own education in the mystical arts had been limited to learning how to use the gifts she had been given. She did know that the creation of life, no matter how simple, was a complex and potent art, but that was the extent of her knowledge. As for demons, she had focused upon learning how to fight them, not how they might be summoned and bound, something that in hindsight might have been a mistake.
There was also that portal they had come through, the one that had disappeared after the explosion. What level of power did that speak to? For that matter, was it possible to trace it back to its origin?
“Honoured Hadriel, the forces that attacked us came through a portal in space, could it be tracked back to the source?”
“Where did it manifest?”
Quickly Joan showed the angel where the portal had sprung into being, enough of the debris from the ritual remaining to make the task simple enough. Hadriel spread her wings, the crimson feathers glowing softly as she focused her attention on the spot, but after a few moments the glow died away and she shook her head.
“No. The idea was good, but the one that created this portal has been careful and cunning. I can trace some of the energies, but they run through half a dozen different realms, from what I can see. All the while fragmenting as they do so. One of my brethren more skilled in the use of magic than I might have been able to track the thread, but it is beyond my abilities. However, that is not of such import at this time.”
As she spoke the angel waved at the remains of the golem, her eyes alighting on it with an expression of both wonder and . . . sadness?
“I know of this one, it was forged more than a thousand years before a star shone over Bethlehem. I know of the art and craft that was used in its creation; I know of the power that it was imbued with. It is . . . tragic to see it reduced to this state by the machinations of one that traffics with demons.”
“It is really so old?”
“Indeed, a lock of Sampson’s hair was burnt to ash and used in its creation, that was one of the reasons its strength is on par with that of powerful divine beings.”
That startled Joan. She had known that the golem had been a formidable foe, but now she felt slightly better about the trouble it had given her. In hindsight, it made sense, given how powerful her transformation made her. No simple creation of ancient mystics should be able to break her wing as the great hulk of stone and metal had, not without some sort of divine power of its own.
“Such a waste,” She agreed, saddened that it had been her enemy rather than an ally. “It would have been a great asset to have upon our side, a guardian that never needed to eat, sleep or even rest, that would be useful.”
Hadriel didn’t immediately agree, rather she tilted her head slightly while looking at the French saint.
“I am sure that to a mortal such issues are of concern, but to an angel food, drink and sleep are not causes for worry since they have no meaning to us. The needs that you mortals endure are unknown to us, weaknesses of the flesh we do not share.”
Very well, Joan did not wish to think harshly of the angel that had been sent to aid her, but she was certain she was beginning to detect a certain tone to Hadriel’s comments. They weren’t deliberately high-handed, but there was a definite undertone of . . . condescension? Superiority? On a purely intellectual level, she could understand it, somewhat. Angels were beings designed by the Almighty to act as His agents and soldiers, they were designed on a divine level and could exist upon a scale normally reserved only for the gods. Hadriel was completely correct in that they suffered from none of the frailties of mortality, but that didn’t mean that angels were flawless existences, the vast numbers that had Fallen were proof of this. This . . . confidence in her superiority wasn’t directly offensive, she wasn’t forceful enough for that, but it seemed to colour her every word.
Joan shook her head, honestly, she couldn’t even properly explain it in her own head. She had not rested since the attack, and regardless of her gifts, she could only go on for so long before she began to flag. It was almost amusing, that the angel was commenting on mortal weakness just as said weakness was catching up with the resurrected soul. Was that why the resurrected saint found it irksome?
At that thought Joan came to a decision. Clearly, she was far more tired than she was admitting. Hadriel was willing to aid, so Joan should take advantage of the aid that was being offered, regardless of the condescending tone that might be attached.
“But they are weaknesses that I possess, honoured Hadriel. So, might I entrust the duty of guarding our charge to you while I recuperate? Hopefully, I shall not be long, and my full strength shall be restored well before you are ready to aid Adam in his awakening.”
“Of course,” the words were spoken with magnanimity, those of an adult offering to help a child. “Take what time you need to recover; I shall remain vigilant throughout.”
Still unwittingly condescending. Well, in her mortal life, she had dealt with worse, and the angel of the High Heavens had more justified reasons to feel above her than the army commanders she’d had to endure in the past.
It did not matter, for now, the priority was to get some food and water in her belly, then rest for a short time, possibly even taking some time to wash herself. Once that was done, she’d be back to her best, and something told her that she didn’t want to be lacking in energy when Adam completed his Awakening.